


Ruin

by Euregatto



Series: RVB one-shots [6]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: AU - Sharkface Lives, Drabble Sequence, F/M, Growing Old Together, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Romance, Seven Deadly Sins, Socially Awkward Sharkface
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 20:33:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5063122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Euregatto/pseuds/Euregatto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>7 moments in which Sharkface progressively accepts his relationship with Carolina. Loving her is like committing a sin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ruin

**Author's Note:**

> Someone said Sharkalina? I can dig it.  
> There's no real setting for the story that's mentioned at any point, but yes they are still on Chorus.

**Wrath**

Grudges have always rooted deep.

Maybe he wants to kill her still, despite how often he kisses her lips or kisses her chest or kisses her hands, and maybe he wouldn’t mind cracking open her skull tonight or tomorrow or yesterday, despite how often his fingers run through her hair. And he thinks this is the grudge influencing him, all those years of lapsing anger and brooding and malice, gouging deep like the serrated, gnawing teeth of an equally stimulated shark.

At some point he wonders if he could split her skin, break her bones and observe the very marrow of her makeup, and maybe then he could understand her. Comprehend what allows her to tick. To tick. To tick tick _tick_ like a desperately timed explosive. And maybe it’s the grudge that peaks his curiosity, that drives his natural animalistic giddiness in the prospect of breaking the ribs in her chest to find her soul, if that’s where it is, somewhere between the heart and the gallbladder.

Wonders if she would mind at all.

 

 

 

**Lust**

Often times they fuck just for the sake of feeling something, after a particularly stressful day or the third restless night in the week. Sometimes they make love for the sake of amending something, after his anger has not quelled or she’s abruptly reminded of the past she’s worked towards forgetting. More often than not the sex is simply rough for the sake of giving them a satisfactory release from the horrors of the war they’ve been suffering through since before either had been born.

And usually the aftermath is surreal, almost calming in a way, tangled limbs and thrumming heart beats and sheets damp beneath them. Curled with her, tracing bruises. Pressed to him, kissing scars. Almost feels like a sin. Almost feels like he can't remember the despair of living without her.

He’ll talk to her, absently, casual conversations and occasional vents about how much he truly hates her, honestly thinks he’s falling in love, doesn’t regret as much as he claims he does and might just learn to regret her too.

She doesn’t seem bothered by that. Maybe she already regrets him.

 

 

 

**Envy**

“It’s a shame, you know, how the worlds have corroded into this obsession for dominance and power and control. But it’s simply a matter of survival of the fittest, of who’s the biggest shark in the sea.”

“I guess you have a point there.”

“Of course I do. It’s boiled down to the corruption of human nature, starting at the very roots of Cain and Abel. We’ve gone from murder to wrath to greed and to envy. We’re _jealous_.”

He grasps her chin, gently, just to look at her. She’s so small when she’s pressed beneath him. Her presence is like a silver sun, defined by flaring hair that’s beginning to gray slightly along the edges and strength that has not failed as her years drag into the very late forties, so tired and pleasantly lovely, despite her petite stature beneath him.

She’s always lovely. Lovely in the way a flower wilts or in the way a train collides with another. Lovely in the sense of flaying flesh from bone or in the sense of frigid, melancholy air freezing every shuddering exhale.

“So what are you jealous of?”

He grins, a haunting, misaligned reflection of an apex predator.

“Tell me, Lina, was it really Cain who killed Abel?”

 

  

 

**Gluttony**

He’s got the appetite of a shark, consumes more food than she would deem healthy for someone his age, doesn’t complain because he’s respectable enough to use a fork in place of a shovel. Most of the time he makes a wise crack about her being his favorite meal (follows it up by snapping his jaw like a hungry shark and she's flustered despite rolling her eyes). In private he’ll chide about desert being whatever awaits them in their bedroom and she can’t say no to such an offer.

They’re not as sexually active as they used to be with their remaining youth gradually ebbing from their creaking, exhausted bones. But he still eats her out like they’ve never aged a day.

 

 

 

**Sloth**

Age is wearing them thin and they’re beginning their mornings later and later with every passing month, what used to be 6am rollcall has turned into 10am protesting when they roll out of bed. At this point no one expects their presence at breakfast and most of the time soldiers will be ordered to bring coffee to their room.

(This has, of course, led to some awkward encounters. Like the time Grif entered without knocking and learned that Sharkface has a powerbottom kink.)

He spends some days on his stomach, his shoulders sore and she kneads into his back to help alleviate the ache, and on other days she’s too exhausted to move and he returns the favor by soothing the knots out of her knees. Today he finds that her old leg wound is bothering her a bit. He would consider it amusing, how such a miniscule wound poses such a problem, if it hadn’t been because of Felix. Because of Chorus and because of Malcolm Hargrove.

“You ever think of retiring?”

She shrugs.

“Not my style.”

He massages the tender area gently. They don’t talk about it again.

 

 

 

**Pride**

When they fight he doesn’t apologize and she doesn’t either. It’s how they are and in some weird way it _works_. She thinks she could be the bigger person yet by the time she’s simmered down enough to form the words “I’m sorry” he’s already forgotten about the argument entirely.

He know she’s sorry. She doesn’t _need_ to say it. Just uses it as an excuse to break some fragile, unimportant shit that happens to be in the vicinity at the time.

Somehow they amend what’s fractured between them with a little bit of duct tape and space and by the end of the night they’ve either fucked the apologies out of each other or kissed to make up. But they surprisingly don’t fight all that often, regardless – maybe because they settled that anger long ago, maybe because he’s already forgiven her for everything in the past beyond her control and there’s nothing left in him that can ever find a reason to hate her again.

 

 

 

**Greed**

He keeps her all to himself. And maybe it’s as he’s always said, because he’s jealous by nature. Doesn’t find the idea of ever leaving her side to be any more appealing than returning to a life without her in it (and people have voiced their concerns in the beginning, about him leaving her for her own good, or her leaving him for her own safety. Yet the drama has boiled down into reluctant acceptance and Sharkface knows he doesn't belong here. Only belongs with her. Only belongs where she wants him to be and everyone else can go fuck themselves with a cactus).

Somewhere along the way he realizes that he’s definitely in love with her and loving her has been like heaven and renewal and light engulfed by sin and hell and ruin. At some point he wonders if he wants this to last. At some point he wants this to last. At some point he makes it last.

“I want you to marry me.”

Says it awkwardly and intensely and breathlessly and they’re just standing awkwardly in the middle of the room with the trainees now just as awkwardly watching the event transpire. Normally proposals are cause for celebration but every soldier finds Sharkface to be utterly terrifying (and Carolina even more so) and needless to say they deem it wiser to stay as quiet as possible.

She’s alive and breathing and suddenly _laughing_ and he knows only that he wants her forever. Through life and death and whatever awaits them in the aftermath.

“I want that too.”

 

 


End file.
